


Stay

by LauraNightingale



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraNightingale/pseuds/LauraNightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony doesn't know when to stop cracking dumb jokes. These are the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

Tony really, _really_ hates Steve sometimes.

" _OOF!_ " The impact of the punch sends him flying into the opposite wall with a hearty smack.

And this is one of those times. He grits his teeth, working out the tension in his jaw as he draws himself up and slides back into a fighting stance.

Across the room, Steve stands with his feet firmly planted, immovable. He wears an oddly satisfied look, and Tony really, _really_ wants to punch that grin off his stupid face.

They are in the gym of the Avengers Mansion, and this is just supposed to be training--but it never is just training when it comes to the matches between the two of them. No. They are raw, bloody manfights that factor into the _ultimate_ equation, the one that determines which of them is _better_.

And god, Tony hates to lose.

He charges without a moment's notice, spontaneous as usual, and he pulls his fist up to meet his opponent's face, thinking furiously, _I've got this--_

Except then he doesn't. Steve twists around neatly and throws him to the ground, and his back slams across the mat with another slap that echoes throughout the walls.

Damn Steve. Damn Steve and his super-soldier steroids. Jesus. He could become a brick wall, too, if he felt like injecting himself with all that crap--

"For the record, _you're_ the one who keeps asking me to help you get better at fighting outside the armor," Steve retorts, rolling his shoulders.

" _I know_ ," Tony mutters stiffly.

"You--"

"I know, goddammit, okay?"

Steve frowns. "Well, then stop looking like you've just swallowed a lemon."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure lemons would taste better than this," Tony mumbles under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing at all--" One step closer, and, _yes_ , Tony snags his leg while he's on the ground and throws him down on the mat. If he's quick enough, he can roll over and pin him down in place--

Except then Steve flips over like a goddamn ballerina and pins him down first.

Tony lets out an exasperated sound. "Captain, 'scuse my language, but you're a real pain in the ass."

"Yeah, yeah. Like I said, this was your idea..." Steve trails off suddenly, and he peers closer.

"What the hell?"

"...wow. You have really long lashes, did you know that?" He squints hard, leaning in for a better look.

"Dude, whoa. Space, man." Tony gives Steve a hard shove in the chest. He doesn't really expect him to budge, just maybe get the hint to scoot away--so imagine his surprise when Steve falls away with all the resistance of a fly. "Uh, what?"

"Sorry, I--" Steve peels himself off the ground.

Tony scoffs, rising to his feet. "Please. I mean, I know I'm pretty, but let's not get so worked up over my charm."

"I, uh--" Steve blinks in rapid succession and opens his mouth, but he is at a loss for words. Finally, he just covers it, choosing not to say anything at all.

"...um, dude? It was a joke. Chill." Tony stands there for a few more moments, staring.

At that, Steve bristles. "I _know_ what a joke is, Stark," he snaps, shoving past Tony. "I may be from a different time, but I still know what a joke is. My sense of humor did not leave me just because I jumped decades."

Tony frowns at the sudden animosity, and he reaches out and stops him. "Wait, did I hurt you back there? When I pushed you off?"

" _Don't touch me._ " Steve slaps away his hand, but when he does, he lets his own hand fall away from his face. There is a plain, embarrassed flush that colors his cheeks.

Tony stops and just stares. Steve takes a step back, seeming to realize his mistake. The seconds stretch between them, neither knowing what to say to the other, until Steve finally ducks his head. Without another word, he storms out of the gym.

Watching him leave, Tony scratches his head, feeling rather put off himself but not knowing why.

\--

It's awkward after that.

Tony can't quite put his finger on what makes it that way, but he knows it is. It's not like Steve doesn't talk to him anymore, because he does, and it's not like he's not casual, because he is. But that's just it. Did Steve ever talk to him this much? And since when were they ever this casual? They were usually at each other's throats.

Tony isn't sure, but he just goes along with it.

\--

"Did something happen with you guys?" Bruce asks one evening, when he and Tony are in the lab.

"What do you mean?" Tony mutters distractedly, not looking up.

Bruce fiddles with his pen. "You and Steve. You guys are...calmer. You don't fight as much anymore."

Tony raises his chin and stares at him. "No, nothing...happened." Did something happen? He still isn't entirely clear on that. He had been ignoring it for the time being, but if others had started noticing, then, well. Something was up, and it wasn't just him being paranoid.

"No, it's good. It's nice not having to hear you guys get on each other's cases about toast and coffee all the time," Bruce quickly amends, and he returns to the lab report he's been writing up.

But Tony doesn't go back to what he was doing. He turns over Bruce's words in his mind. It's true that he no longer needles Steve about his grandpa tendencies and the way he has to have his toast (not a second more or less than golden-brown, god, how _prissy_ ), and Steve doesn't hassle him about making the coffee too strong anymore, either.

Did that make things different?

What had happened that day, anyway? He still doesn't understand. Whatever it is, Tony doesn't like it. And he doesn't like all this over-thinking. It's inefficient when he could be better applying his brain to innovative ideas.

\--

"Have a match with me," Tony offers the next day, over breakfast. Earlier, he did not complain to Steve about his toast, and Steve did not bother him about his coffee.

Across the table, Steve is reading a newspaper (what a geezer, he couldn't just get the news from a Stark Tablet like everyone else), but he sputters on his drink a little. "You haven't asked me that in a while," he manages.

Tony shrugs. "I'm asking now."

\--

So they are downstairs in the gym again together, brawling it out. And it is just like old times.

Except it isn't. It's not like old times at all.

Steve has been on the defensive the entire time, hardly touching Tony, and Tony is growing increasingly frustrated. For the life of him, he can't tell if this is Steve's way of _mocking_ his abilities, or if he's just still angry about last time.

"What the hell, Steve? I'm so shitty that you won't even take off the kiddy gloves anymore, is that it?" Tony scowls as he sends a right hook flying.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve says stiffly, manuevering another dodge.

"I'm talking about _this_ ," Tony snaps, barreling his fist into Steve's stomach. " _You're not even trying._ Seriously, are you still pissed off about what happened last time?"

Steve jumps back, panting. "I _am_ trying. And I don't--"

"Yeah, you don't know what I'm talking about--oh, _wait_. Except I know you do. Genius, remember?" Tony rolls his eyes. "I might not be such a pro at this, but I can tell when people are acting weird around me. And you've been acting _weird_."

Steve draws back, his brow creasing. Then, without warning, he lunges toward Tony, showing the first sign of aggression all morning. "I--don't--know--what you're--talking-- _about_." He grinds out the last word as he sends Tony sailing over his shoulder, and he pins him there against the mat. Only this time, their positions are very different, and it seems Steve is still determined to have minimal contact with him.

Tony rolls his eyes. "Oh, _really_." Steve's grip on him feels like a five-year-old's headlock. To prove it, he moves the offending arm with ease and turns the tables on him, hurling him across the room.

This time, it is _Steve_ who slams into the opposite wall, and pride surges through Tony's chest at the sight. There's nothing quite like the feeling of winning, after all. Tony is at his side before he can even collect himself, and Tony snatches him up by the collar and pins him against the wall. Unlike Steve, though, his grip is not soft or weak.

"Okay, what was it? Get it out, buddy. Was it the thing I said about me being really pretty? 'Cause I swear to god, Steve, that was a _joke_ \--"

Steve grits his teeth. "Let. Go. Of. Me."

Tony stops and stares. "Steve, what the hell. Are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?"

Steve knees him. "Just let go of me."

It wasn't a sharp blow, but if it had been, Tony had no doubt he'd be doubled over right now. "Okay, that's just dirty. You can't just--"

"Don't test me." He shoves his knee between Tony's legs as a threat.

Tony starts a little, surprised, and it is then that he is suddenly aware of how they are standing, how their bodies are tangled, and he is taken back to that day when they had been sparring last and he had been on the mat with Steve straddled over him, leaning closer...

Oh. Jeez. "Steve, calm down. I get it now. You thought I was trying to say you were gay, right? That's, like, a huge taboo for people back then, right? I'm sorry, okay, so--"

"That's not it," Steve says flatly, but Tony notices a faint blush creeping across his face again. "Just let go of me."

"Jesus Christ. Look, we both know we're not gay, so--" Without warning, Tony pushes his mouth against Steve's. It had just been meant to be proof, evidence to back up what he had been saying...

...but he had not been expecting the other man to _melt_ into his lips.

There is something about that that numbs his mind, and the kiss lasts a few seconds longer than he means for it to at first. But then he finds that Steve is kissing him _back_ in deep, heavy breaths--and he is lost in the momentum of what he's started, because he's not quite thinking clearly and all he can focus on is how sweet it is that he seems to be shivering a little under his touch, and how much his skin tingles wherever it makes contact, and actually, how good the knee at his groin now feels. He leans in to it, even, and then the kiss is hot and wet and deeply satisfying, but he wants _more_ , and he realizes with a jolt that Steve has actually probably noticed that by now because his knee--

 _Shit_.

Tony tears away suddenly, gasping for air, and he stares. Both of them are very, very aroused, and there's something about this scenario that had played out very differently in his head, but right now, in this moment, he isn't sure at all why he ever thought it would have played out any other way.

It all seems so obvious now.

"...as I was saying, we both know we _aren't_ gay," Tony finishes lamely, as a final attempt at a joke. Steve just looks at him, and he looks so hurt by that pathetic attempt at humor that Tony is immediately so sorry he ever thought that would be funny at all.

And that _blush_. Tony hadn't ever realized he'd be so attracted to people who blushed, but that stupid, subtle blush that Steve always tried so hard to hide--it drove him over the edge. And Steve is blushing now, not even subtly. His entire face is flushed with heat, and it's so goddamn adorable that Tony just wants to shove him against the wall and start it all over again.

But Steve is already walking away, and Tony doesn't know how to stop him because he is much too confused himself.

\--

They don't talk at all after that. There is not even a half-assed attempt at civility anymore.

Tony still doesn't know what to make of anything that occurred that day.

It's pretty obvious now that Steve is attracted to him. How long has that been going on for, though? And for that matter, how long has it been that he's been attracted to Steve Rogers?

Maybe...maybe it hadn't been something either of them had fully realized until he _kissed_ him. Goddammit.

Tony is an awful person, and he knows it.

\--

Later that week, Tony finds Steve sitting alone in one of the living rooms of the mansion, watching a movie.

His first instinct is to duck out immediately, but his gut clenches fiercely and tell hims, _No. Stay._

So he does. It takes only a few moments for Steve to notice his presence and look up, and he jerks backwards a bit. "Sorry, I'll leave," he says flatly, picking up the remote.

"No!" Tony blurts out. Steve glances at him, and Tony blinks. "I mean, no. I'll watch with you."

Slowly, Steve lowers the remote as Tony slides sinto the couch next to him, and he shoots wary looks at him as they watch the movie in silence.

Steve seems to relax after a few minutes, however, as he returns his attention to the movie. Tony tries to focus, too, but he finds himself completely distracted. He keeps sneaking glances back at the man sitting beside him, at the color of his cheeks when they aren't furiously blushing, at the flash of white that he shows whenever he lets out a soft laugh, and at the shape of his profile--noble, serene. Tony's never noticed that before, probably because he is always so busy staring straight at him.

He's kind of beautiful.

Just as he thinks that, another chuckle from Steve escapes, and his leg shifts absent-mindedly. It brushes against Tony's, and he freezes as a sizzle of electricity passes between them. They both do.

The contact is a relief. Tony suddenly realizes that he has been aching for the intimacy of what had happened back there again, and right now, the weight of his knee against his own is an achingly sweet armistice to the silent war. He doesn't want to bluntly look at him, but he glances at him out of the corner of his eye. From there, he can tell that Steve is trying his best not to look in his direction, too.

Well, hell. This was ridiculous. What were they doing, running around like schoolgirls? Just as he opens his mouth to say something, Steve shivers against him, and he rises to his feet.

"Sorry, I can't do this," he mutters.

"What?" Tony blinks.

Steve turns to face him, looking slightly angry, but with a trace of something else. "I know this is funny to you. All of this is. I'm a big joke to you. I know you like to mess around and have your games, but I'm not going to stay and be one of them."

... _oh_. Hurt. That was what else. He was hurt.

Tony reaches out and grabs his hand. He's momentarily thrown for words when he suddenly realizes how big Steve's hands are, and there is just silence for a few seconds. But he remembers then how important it is that he say something, and that he say it _now_. "...stay."

" _What_?" Steve seems livid. "Didn't you just hear what I said?"

"Yeah, I did. You won't stay and be my game. So stay and _not_ be my game," Tony says quietly, running his thumb over the pale knuckles of the hand he held.

"...what?"

Tony inhales deeply. "I'm sorry that I kept trying to crack jokes. But that's what I do, y'know? That's me. That's all I got, and I crack dumb jokes even when I shouldn't. But...that doesn't mean I wasn't ever _serious_."

"What are you trying to say?" Steve asks sharply.

"I'm saying, stay. Stay and watch this stupid cowboy movie with me--by the way, this movie is pretty stupid." At the look on Steve's face, Tony quickly backtracks. "Joking, joking. See? Dumb jokes. I know you like your old wild West films." He presses his lips together into a thin line. "Stay, and...take it day by day with me."

"..." Steve says nothing.

"Steve?"

The older man bends down and presses his forehead against Tony's, closing his eyes. Tony is unsure of what he's doing, but he's keenly aware of the close proximity between their mouths and he can smell the musky scent that clings to his body and his hot breath hitting his lips and Tony nuzzles closer, wanting...

Steve tears away without warning. "Okay. I'll stay."

"...what was _that_?" Tony breathes heavily, sounding accusatory.

"I just wanted to know I had the same effect on you." And Steve smiles, almost shyly, as he sits down next to him again.

"You're an awful person."

"So are you," Steve points out.

"I know."

\--

"...so you're dating now." Bruce pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He is sitting in the lab alone with Tony again, and Tony is assembling a strange contraption as a part of his latest project.

"Uh-huh."

"And that's what happened."

"Pretty much."

"And this is _not_ a joke."

"Wow. Why do you guys always assume everything I say is a joke?" Tony claps his hand over his chest, as if struck by an imaginary arrow.

Dr. Bruce Banner shoots him a dry look.

"Okay, point taken. No, I'm serious. I can't really tell you how it happened, because I'm still not so clear on that part myself. But all I know is...yeah, I'm serious."

"Wow. And do the, uh...do the rest of the team know about this?"

"Nope," Tony tells him cheerfully. "You're the first."

"Oh boy," Bruce mumbles. "I'm sure there's this expression, you know, 'you don't shit where you eat'...I think S.H.I.E.L.D. takes it pretty seriously."

"Please. Like S.H.I.E.L.D. is _paying_ us? I do what I want."

"Touche. Okay, don't shoot me for asking, but what _are_ you doing?" Bruce asks, squinting at the tiny object in Tony's hands.

"Well. Remember how I was shipped off to boarding school? I only had a few things with me when I left, but...this was one of them." Tony passes the object to Bruce. "I found it again recently, and I've been fixing it up."

"...I thought it couldn't be that bad, but nope. Nope. This actually makes me want to throw up. Congratulations, Tony."

"Ha-ha. Don't try to be funny. I'm the only funny one around here." Tony sets the Captain America figure on the table and smiles broadly.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr!](http://laurarobin.tumblr.com)


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